Bloodstained Black and Gold
by asomyrcal
Summary: Complete: One Shot - That space belonged to no-one else, he would never let anyone else have it.


**Title**: Bloodstained Black and Gold

**Fandom**: 07-Ghost  
**Pairing(s)**: Hyuuga and Ayanami  
**Warnings**: Mentions of decapitation, blood, blatant kissing and possessiveness.

**Synopsis: **That space belonged to no-one else, he would never let anyone else have it.

He was covered in blood, dark spatters against black and gold, the men and women at the doorway staring at the decapitated body lying at his feet. The huge cats were circling, pacing restlessly, as if to keep anyone else away from their emotionless master, agitated and growling almost territorially.

"A-Ayanami-sama!" One of the officers stumbled out of the crowd behind him, his eyes fixated on the poor victim of the Chief of Staff's dark magic. It was shock that gripped the crowd, especially since the body was clothed in one of the Barsburg Empire's crisp black and gold uniforms. A single pair of dark glasses lay forlorn and forgotten, having fallen from their wearer's face as he fell.

Cold violet eyes turned to regard the lone soldier who had broken away from the rest, as if contemplating if the man were a threat, then to the now headless body on the ground. He picked up the abandoned sunglasses, turning them over in his hands, ignoring the fact that crimson droplets on the now-cracked lenses were staining his gloves.

Dark hair, crimson eyes and a shocked expression on that now-deadened face stared blankly up at the horrified soldiers.

Ayanami could tell that the rest of the soldiers were shocked. The dead man had looked almost exactly identical to the ever-smiling Major who always stood at his side, and it was understandable that their first thought was that the cold-blooded Chief of Staff had killed one of his own men seemingly for no reason whatsoever. But few things escaped him, even more so when it was one of the men he allowed to remain right at his side.

He would never mistake that familiar scent of blood and chocolate and old metal.

"When are you going to stop playing around?"

There was a muted anger and malice in those cold words.

Ayanami did not turn around to acknowledge the single, lanky frame that had finally separated from the crowd. A flick of his fingers launched the cracked glass towards the man, and the familiar grin that spread over his features made the crowd gawk helplessly at the very-much-alive Major who now stood amongst them, wondering what matter of black magic made this madness possible.

It didn't take much effort for Hyuuga to catch hold of the sunglasses, the flimsy imitation easily crushed in his callused palm. Simple tinted glasses and cheap metal, a pathetic attempt at replacing the original. The grin on his face merely widened, lazy strides carrying him over to where his superior stood, blatantly ignoring the big cats that growled warningly at him, their tails whipping around in agitation.

"But Aya-tan, you seemed to be having so much fun."

The swordsman pouted slightly, letting the now mangled glasses drop to the ground with a clatter. Frigid winter violet threw a dagger-tipped glare at his subordinate, turning on his heel and striding away from the congealing blood and fast cooling body.

An unnecessarily angry crunch of glass and metal beneath a heavy boot and a quick glare – no one saw it, they were hidden by dark sunglasses – at Ayanami's retreating back was the only hint of anger and jealousy the crimson-eyed swordsman would give away at the moment, there were too many people now staring open-mouthed at him and his beheaded doppelganger.

"I want an explanation for how this creature managed to come aboard the ship."

Ayanami's voice was cold, almost angry, accusing, ice-coated needles directed at the hapless soldiers. All of the men and women instinctively cowered away from the silver-haired man who held death at the tip of his fingers, not daring to anger him any further. He was ice and death and frigid anger condensed into a single being, and the entire crowd swiftly parted to allow him passage off the ship.

Behind him, Hyuuga grinned, as if nothing was wrong at all, and followed his angry superior down the ramp, hands behind his head. The silver-haired man striding away before him was like a tempered storm, seething with muted power, a dark power brewing beneath black and silver and gold, striding through the hall with no care for the humans that quickly scrambled to avoid any possible wrath that might be directed at them from the frozen lavender eyes.

No-one caught the slightly narrowed crimson hidden where few saw, or felt the suppressed emotion only one other man had briefly caught when their eyes had met.

The scent of blood still hung heavily around him. It was a scent that Hyuuga detested.

It was the smell of _his_ blood.

* * *

_Ridiculous_, he let the coat drop over the back of the chair, studying the dark crimson blotches on the crisp gold and black fabric. The blood would be difficult to remove, but he couldn't care less. His gloves had long since been discarded carelessly on the table, dried copper on white. Softly, he padded into the bathroom, movements graceful as always. There were a few blotches of blood on the shirt's crisp collar, most likely having soaked through the thick black coat, and more haphazard spatters across his pale skin and silver hair.

The minute that creature had leaned in, Ayanami had known that the person standing there was a mere cheap imitation that dared present itself before him in the guise of one of his most trusted officers. The thought itself had made a dull anger bubble up in his chest, something which had eventually snapped and cleaved the fake's head off his shoulders with a single snap of his fingers.

A soft click from the door completely failed to make him turn around. Instead, he ignored it, half-lidded violet eyes gazing seemingly past the wall into a place only those frozen orbs could see. There was only one man who dared to enter at all, only one man who had such insolence and daring in the entire seven continents of the Barsburg Empire.

Slender fingers reached out, curling around cold metal and twisting almost savagely, as if the poor knob had been the perpetrator of some heinous crime. Ice cold droplets soaked his shirt, plastering silver hair against ivory skin, just as his subordinate's lanky shadow finally appeared in the doorway.

Hyuuga moved fast. He had apparently taken his time to hang up his coat and set aside the two deadly blades that were almost glued to his side; now freed from those restrictions, the swordsman's lean body was even more agile than before. Ayanami merely glared coldly up into his subordinate's crimson eyes, eyes hooded by the glasses he constantly wore, water running down his skin.

The kiss pressed against his lips was forceful, almost angry, possessive, and he could taste the jealousy and dominance mingling with the familiar scent of caramel. Beneath the smiling facade Hyuuga had carefully kept on board the ship, the Chief of Staff knew that his companion had seen and felt perhaps a little more than jealousy when he allowed the creature the same kind of proximity only one other man had. Callused fingers found pale ivory and pinned that slender wrist against the wall, a territorial growl issuing from his throat.

A ghost of a smirk teased the corner of Ayanami's lips.

"You let him close."

Hyuuga's voice was hoarse, a thread of aggressiveness mingled with want, his grip on Ayanami's pale wrist tightening to the point that it started to hurt, elicting a soft growl from the man pinned against the wall.

The water had started washing away the hints of blood in his silver hair, the water dyed a pale ghost of crimson as those tainted spots of red finally dissolved away. Hyuuga detested it, his free hand reaching up and running through soft silver strands, meeting that cold violet glare with one of his own, refusing to back down. Those muted feelings of jealousy finally bubbled to the surface, pent up anger painted clearly in the man's eyes.

They didn't need words to know what was on the other's mind.

"You're angry."

Ayanami's free hand reached up, gripping none too gently at Hyuuga's chin, forcing the swordsman to look at him. The look in his eyes was unreadable, gaze locked with blood-red eyes. Eyes that narrowed, emotions written clearly in his eyes.

They were entangled again – they always were – neither willing to back down first.

"You let him too close."

The scent of blood on Ayanami still lingered, even though the water had long since washed out all of the crimson spatters that had marred impassive ivory and silver. He hated it, it was a reminder that a cheap imitation had been allowed into a space that was solely his, a possessive streak that rarely showed finally rearing its head.

"And?"

The nonchalance in the Chief of Staff's voice sounded almost as if he were challenging the man pinning him against the tiled wall. Water had started pooling around their feet, the shower long forgotten in the midst of their little tug-of-war of dominance.

"Don't you dare."

It was almost bruising, and he gasped slightly, the sound muffled by Hyuuga's lips on his own.

When they broke apart for air, the smirk on Ayanami's lips was obvious, a somewhat smug look that made the taller man narrow his eyes.

"You're jealous." Ayanami stated as if it were the most obvious thing ever, that oh-so-smug smirk still firmly fixed on bruised lips. He leaned back against the wall, the only small movement he could manage, stray droplets dripping from his hair onto a completely soaked shirt, half-lidded violet studying Hyuuga predatorily.

The swordsman threw a glare his way, as if the angry gaze would explain everything. Of course he was jealous, that space was exclusively his and his alone, and Ayanami had allowed a creature unworthy of any attention into such close proximity. Teeth nipped at exposed skin, leaving an angry red bruise on the pale flesh, a mark that even the water trickling down his throat could not wash away.

"Why are you so pleased?" Hyuuga certainly wasn't. His grip on Ayanami's wrist tightened, but the silver-haired man's expression remained entirely neutral, violet eyes boring into crimson, showing no sign of pain or discomfort.

"Because."

A cryptic answer as always. Behind the shield of water and tinted glass, Hyuuga's eyes narrowed. This sounded like one of the games the Chief of Staff always seemed to play, the double-sided words and veiled answers, one of their little games no-one else seemed to figure out. The man wasn't fighting the vise-like grip on his wrist or the weight of his subordinate's lean, muscular form keeping him pinned against the cold, slick tile.

Then it hit him.

"You _knew_." The realization was clear in his voice. Accusation was clear in his eyes, glaring at Ayanami with a mix of anger and indignation. A hand slammed against the tile beside his head, but the man did not even flinch.

"You knew and you let him."

Ayanami would never say it, but he enjoyed seeing the expression etched into deep crimson. His fingers reached up, deftly removing the barrier between them, letting his subordinate's precious sunglasses fall to the floor with a clatter. The man standing before him sighed softly, but he had stopped questioning why Ayanami would make it a habit to remove his glasses every time they were alone together.

"It always ends the same way." Ayanami's voice was soft, almost emotionless, and for once, those violet-lavender eyes were a little less guarded.

Fingers chilled by the water around them trailed almost gently over Hyuuga's cheek, gripping his chin firmly and pulling him close enough for Ayanami to press an almost forceful kiss to the man's caramel tainted lips. In that moment, Hyuuga seized the opportunity, teeth coming down hard against swollen lips, drawing a thin line of blood that welled up against bruised skin as he pulled away.

Ayanami's blood tasted of death and darkness and bittersweet wine, just how Hyuuga always remembered it. The anger that had welled up inside started to fade as he took in the image of his superior, water dripping from wet hair plastered against skin, dishevelled with his throat bruised and translucent white clinging to his lean form.

"Aya-tan's being ridiculous." Hyuuga finally sighed in defeat, pulling Ayanami close, burying his face in his superior's damp hair.

"So are you, Hyuuga."

The scent of blood had finally been washed away.

**END**


End file.
